


Ooh, you make my motor run

by darkrosaleen



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Age Difference, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rimming, Time Travel, time travel feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/pseuds/darkrosaleen
Summary: Thirty-eight-year-old Pete stumbles into sixteen-year-old Joe's bedroom. He never thought he'd miss the days of agonizing over a six year age gap.





	Ooh, you make my motor run

Pete went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and walked out into someone else's hallway.

He blinked. He turned around and saw a different bathroom than the one he'd just used. Thinking that his eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark, he fumbled for the light switch, finding nothing but a blank wall.

He finally found the switch on the opposite wall and flicked it on. Definitely not his bathroom. Definitely a bathroom he was familiar with, though, and he struggled to place it without the context of the rest of the house.

Definitely a house. There was a staircase at the other end of the hall, and light was showing under the nearest door. Pete's instincts told him that he was welcome in this room, so he knocked softly, opening the door when he heard a familiar male voice.

Lying on the bed was Joe Trohman. A skinny Joe Trohman with a lip ring and a threadbare Ninja Turtles t-shirt that exposed his bare arms.

Joe stared at the tattoo on Pete's collarbone. "Holy shit, it worked."

Pete's eyes widened. "You mean you did this on purpose?"

Joe's face crumpled. Pete felt bad—this Joe still had a hero worship crush on him, and Pete had around a decade of parenting experience to back up his disappointed face. 

This Joe didn't have a kid yet. This Joe's _Pete_ didn't have a kid yet.

Joe curled into a defensive ball. "Yeah, when I made a random wish on a falling star, I totally thought it would summon an alternate universe Pete Wentz into my bedroom."

Pete quietly shut the door and sunk into the desk chair. "I don't think it's an alternate universe. Your house looks exactly like I remember it. Unless your world has, like, mutant talking sharks or something."

Joe giggled, and it was so nostalgically familiar that Pete's stomach hurt. "So you're Pete from the future? How old are you, anyway? You look like somebody's cool uncle."

Pete was just wearing the gym shorts he'd slept in. He wished he was wearing something more adventurous, so he could make Joe think that was the normal fashion of the 2010s. Although even baby Joe was probably too smart for that. "I'm thirty-eight."

Joe looked down at the comforter. "That's eleven more than twenty-seven."

Pete sat down on the bed and squeezed Joe's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I mean, I was—I _am_ —the me that you know is sorry, even if he doesn't act like it." He didn't want to set the kid up for disappointment, but he knew that things would get worse before they got better. He didn't know how to make that easier. "Is that what you wished for? To know?"

Joe laughed, wiping his eyes. "No, but I fucked that up too. If 22-year-old Pete doesn't want me because I'm too young, you must think I'm a toddler or something."

Pete's neck hairs stood up. "Your Pete doesn't want you?" That sounded upside down and backwards. He didn't remember ever discussing it in words, but if he had, there's no way Joe could think he wasn't wanted.

Joe looked devastated. Pete sent up a quick prayer of thanks that he no longer had to deal with teenage emotions. "I've been dropping hints, but he never seems to notice. He thinks I'm just a straight dude who constantly jokes about blowing guys."

Pete's boner started to wake up at the thought of this kid with a cock in his mouth. "I'm the last person who'd assume that, trust me." He inched closer and ran his palm up Joe's back. "Look, I know how hard it is to say that stuff to another guy. I was—he's scared too, that's why he plays it off. He loves you like crazy."

"What, like a brother? A really good friend? No, probably like a son. I'm just some little kid who looks up to him and makes him feel special."

Pete sat back. Even in this fetal stage, Joe was so handsome it kind of took Pete's breath away. "Dude, I know you're not that dense. You know what you look like."

Joe laughed, tensing up and leaning away from Pete. "Yeah. Skinny dork, big nose, hopelessly awkward around hot girls and guys."

If Pete's memory served correctly, even the most awkward teenage Joe with the worst dye job had gotten plenty of ass. Had Pete fallen into some terrible universe where Joe had no idea how hot he was?

Before he could launch into a Dove commercial, Joe cut him off. "I have a confession to make." He tugged on the lip ring with his teeth. Jesus, Pete's cock hadn't jerked at that sight since the Bush administration. "I didn't wish for Pete to fall in love with me, or ask me on a date. I wished Pete wanted to fuck me."

Pete went hot all over. For the first time, it occurred to him that he was almost forty years old and sitting on a teenage boy's bed, rubbing a teenage boy's back, thinking about fucking a teenage boy's mouth.

Joe turned big blue eyes on Pete, and every ounce of his resolve crumbled. "You know what that means, right? I wished that Pete Wentz wanted to fuck me, and the falling star brought you here." The lip ring went back in his mouth, and Pete revised his earlier conclusion. This Joe definitely knew how hot he was.

Pete moved his hand to the safety of the bedspread. "What day is it?"

"July seventh."

Pete winced. "If I'm twenty-two, that means it's 2001, which means you're not legal." Something stabbed through his chest when he realized that 9/11 hadn't happened for Joe yet. He hid it by crossing his arms and adopting his best look of paternal condescension. "I hope you're not in the habit of propositioning older men for sex."

Joe laughed. "Dude, you so don't get to call me out on that. Normally, two months underage doesn't even show up on your radar."

Ouch. "Normally, I'm not old enough to be your father. It wouldn't even be a teen pregnancy." Pete never thought he would miss the days of agonizing over a six year age gap.

Joe grinned, eyes catching on Pete's crow's feet. "Are you saying you want me to call you Daddy?"

Pete's dick was about to launch into space. He turned off the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands. "Let me think. You're sixteen, and you're not a virgin, because you lost that when you were fifteen to a girl named Amy?"

"Emily." Joe settled on the bed behind him. "Emily Schwartz. I don't remember telling you that."

"That's because you haven't yet." They talked about it at Pete's bachelor party, which Pete didn't mention because maybe that was giving him too much knowledge of the future. "And you lost your gay virginity to that Asian kid in Akron with the bleached hair."

Joe inhaled sharply. "Did I tell you that too, or does the whole band know?"

Pete shook his head. "You told me years later, but I had firsthand knowledge of what sucking dick does to your voice." He remembered having a minor crisis over it at the time, how good even-less-legal Joe had looked with his mouth all red and his hair fucked up from somebody's hands.

The bed springs jostled again. "Are you trying to figure out if I suck in bed? Because we're not exactly on a level playing field here."

Pete snorted. Joe was curled in a ball again, looking pouty and dejected. Pete bumped their shoulders together. "Hey, it's not you. I'm not supposed to be here. If I take one of your firsts, I'm stealing it from whoever was supposed to have it. Someone who matters more."

Pete had forgotten how lethal Joe's puppy dog eyes were at this age. "What the fuck? You're Pete, of course you matter. You'll always matter to me."

Pete's chest ached. _Remember that in 2010_ , he thought, before leaning forward and kissing Joe.

They hadn't made out since before Joe got married, but he tasted exactly the same. Pete groaned, twisting so that he could push Joe back against the bed and climb on top. Joe made a frantic noise and pressed his hips up. He was still at the age where making out was enough to get him hard. It made Pete remember the days when he could kiss somebody for hours and not even try to get off.

Joe pulled away. "If you refuse to have sex with me because I'm underage, I'll rip your dick off." 

Pete laughed. "I don't care that you're underage, I care that you're two decades younger than me." He sat back on his heels. Joe was panting under him, sweaty hair and flushed skin, a sensual Ganymede who made Pete feel like a dirty old man. Laid out like this, it was impossible to miss how young he looked. 

Pete never pretended to have self-control. He pushed Joe's shirt up, palms skating over his stomach and bony ribs. "You've had your dick sucked before, right?"

Joe nodded. "From girls and guys." He sat up to yank his shirt off before lying back down. Pete's eyes were immediately drawn to all the naked, summer-tan skin on his arms. Pete hadn't seen that skin in over a decade.

Pete picked up Joe's wrist and kissed the delicate blue veins. Joe bit his lip, watching with wide eyes as Pete worked his way down the inside of Joe's forearm. He gasped when Pete licked in the sensitive inner crease of his elbow.

"Are you going to touch my dick at some point?" Joe asked breathlessly. "Is this how old people have sex?" 

Pete flicked him in the shoulder. "Patience, grasshopper. Learn how to take it slow, and you'll be beating away girls with a stick. Instant edge over every other guy your age."

Joe squirmed, grinding his erection against Pete's. "Maybe I don't want girls."

Pete was almost positive that wasn't true. He hoped it wasn't true, for the sake of Joe's wife. But he remembered being sixteen and sexually confused, trying to figure out sex and romance outside the normal gender template.

Pete rolled his hips against Joe's. "Don't see any girls here." He slid down between Joe's legs, pressing his face against Joe's boner through his boxers. He smelled like clean but sweaty guy, which Pete hadn't experienced up close in a long time. 

Joe made a face when Pete sniffed, but his cock twitched against Pete's cheek. Pete had a general idea of Joe's build from seventeen years of carefully not looking in dressing rooms, but he was impressed by the way Joe filled out his boxers. Pete let Joe see him looking, cupping Joe through the fabric and grinning when it barely fit in his hand. 

"Hashtag eggplant emoji," Pete said, rubbing his cheek against it.

Joe frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pete searched his brain for 2001 internet references. "It's like a chat smiley. Eggplant means a big cock." 

Joe blushed and grinned. "Maybe I should text you a picture of it."

Every hair on Pete's body stood up. "Advice from an old person: don't do that. Save it for in-person contact." He nuzzled Joe's cock again, tongue darting out to taste the damp spot on the fabric. Joe jumped like he'd been shocked.

Pete tugged Joe's boxers off. His dick was big and pretty, and Pete's stomach fluttered like it hadn't in a long time. If he didn't have an infuriatingly solid moral compass, he'd climb into Joe's lap and ride him like a stallion.

"I haven't done this in a while," Pete said, wrapping a hand around the shaft and giving it an experimental tug that made Joe nearly launch off the mattress. 

"I've only been doing it for a year, so we're even." Joe wriggled into a more comfortable position. "So after everything, you still end up with a woman?"

There was a hesitant note in his voice. Pete's dick was too hard to think straight, but he took the time to reach up and squeeze Joe's hand. "Hey, it shakes out where it shakes out. I'm still me. Still like eggplants." 

Joe giggled. He carefully touched Pete's hair, barely applying pressure. "You should show me how much you like it." 

Pete shivered. He relaxed his jaw and slid down on Joe's cock, moving slowly to avoid gagging. Joe held himself impossibly still, not even breathing, swallowing a shaky sound when Pete got all the way down. He was thick enough to make Pete's jaw ache, thick enough to stretch his mouth and fill him up. Pete had forgotten how much he liked that.

Like most teenagers, Joe got head like it was the most overwhelming thing he'd ever experienced. His thighs were tense with the effort of keeping still, his hands grabbing restlessly at the sheets, breathing loud enough to wake the whole house. He was so gorgeous that Pete felt almost sick with it.

Joe inhaled sharply when Pete rolled his balls in his hand. Pete pulled off to get his mouth on them, heat curling in his belly when Joe forgot caution and grabbed Pete's hair. Pete pressed his fingers behind Joe's balls, and Joe choked down a noise, spreading his thighs and rocking up into Pete's face.

"You can do it," Joe blurted out. "I've been fingered before, I really like it. I just showered and everything."

Pete jerked his head up. Every line of Joe's body was leading him there, down between his spread legs to his tight asshole. Pete could _smell_ him, soap and sweat and guy.

A filthy, terrible thought slammed into Pete's brain. He slid his hands up the inside of Joe's thighs, spreading them further. "You're sensitive here, huh?" Pete rubbed his thumb lightly over Joe's hole, earning a full body shudder. "You like it when somebody plays with your ass? Slides a finger up there while they're blowing you?"

Joe nodded. "I fingered myself in the shower and pretended it was you."

Fuck. Pete's self-restraint had officially left the building. He watched Joe's face, still gripping his thigh. "What do you like about it? The stretch, feeling full? Is your prostate really sensitive?" Pete dragged his thumb over Joe's hole. "Or do you like having your rim played with? You like it when I do this, right?" 

Pete felt Joe's hole clench under his thumb, and he almost fistpumped. "Anything," Joe said, voice shaking. "I like all of it. Fuck, Pete, please."

Sometime in 2008, Pete had spent a rough night in the bus kitchen with Joe, talking about any weird personal shit that crossed their minds. He distinctly remembered Joe blushing as he described the first guy who had eaten him out, some beefy sound tech in Germany with a septum piercing. Had that guy seen what Pete was seeing now, Joe's body twitching and squirming with anticipation? Had he heard Joe beg like this? What kind of noises had Joe made when he felt a tongue in his ass for the first time?

Shuffling down the bed, Pete got low enough that he could breathe hot air on Joe's asshole and watch it twitch. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but in the future, everybody eats ass."

Joe shuddered. "You're winding me up." He sounded young and hurt. Pete went back in with his thumb, circling just slowly enough to make Joe squirm.

"Cross my heart. There are top ten pop songs about it. It's so white bread, soccer moms are into it." He kissed the inside of Joe's thigh, flicking his tongue suggestively. "Although not as much as they're into hardcore BDSM."

Joe snorted. "You're so full of shit." He pushed Pete's hair out of his eyes with shaky fingers. "You really want to? It's not gross?"

He looked so nervous that Pete almost started backpedaling, but he at least owed Joe the truth. "Fuck, I want to so bad. You look so delicious I could eat you up, just bury my face in there and make you scream. I bet you taste raw and musky like sex."

"Ew," Joe said, his face conveying the opposite. He couldn't keep his eyes off Pete's mouth.

Pete was hit with a final pang of guilt. He lifted his head and tried to school his expression into something sincere. "Listen, I'm not going to make you do this. If you just want a blowjob, or some fingers, that's totally rad. But if you want this, I need to hear you ask for it in words."

Joe made a face. "Rad? You really are old." He avoided Pete's eyes. "Do I really have to say it out loud? It's embarrassing."

Embarrassment looked hot on Joe, making him even more red and fidgety. Pete was officially the worst person ever. "Come on, man. I have to at least nod in the direction of explicit consent."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Fine. Pete Wentz, please stick your tongue in my ass. I consent to you eating me out." He giggled, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "I've thought about it a lot, actually. Do you have any idea how often you stick your tongue out?"

Pete did, but he'd thought only girls payed attention. He was hit with the mental image of pretty, jailbait Joe blushing at Pete's oral antics, fixated on the thought of someone licking him open.

Pete gently pushed Joe's thighs back. "Hold your legs open for me." Joe did, and it was straight out of the awful twink porn Pete pretended not to watch anymore. Joe's hole was suddenly much more exposed, tight and dusky and puckered. At this moment in time, no one had ever tasted it before. Pete was going to be the first.

Sending up a silent apology to the German sound guy, Pete leaned down and licked right across. It tasted like freshly showered ass, which he missed more than he thought. Joe nearly took Pete's head off clamping his thighs together.

"Oh god," Joe choked out, voice breaking. "Fuck, fuck."

Pete grinned. He licked hard and fast to make up for all the teasing, working Joe's hole relentlessly. Joe's thighs shook under his hands, and he was letting out a steady stream of sub-verbal noises, like it was so much that he couldn't handle it. That was what Pete's first rimjob had felt like—so much.

Pete fucking loved this, loved the filthy, primal satisfaction of burying his face in somebody's secret places and just devouring them. There was a thread of Joe's unique smell under the usual musky taste, and it took Pete back to the band's early days, when everybody's dirty sweat scent became familiar and comforting.

Pete moved his hand to support Joe's knee. "You should jerk off. I want you to come from this." Joe's dick was lying hard and red against his belly, his balls drawn up tight. Pete was like a kid in a toy store, he wanted to touch everything, but he needed to focus if he was going to make this good. 

Joe nodded. He grabbed his cock and started jerking it hard and fast. "Holy shit, your mouth."

Pete took that as a request, ducking back down and flicking the point of his tongue in and around Joe's hole. Joe gasped and shoved back into Pete's face, which was so hot that Pete had to reach down and grab his dick. 

"Fuck," Joe said, "Shit, fuck, _daddy_."

Heat flooded through Pete's body. He jerked his head up, watching Joe's shit-eating grin with trepidation. "Run that by me again."

Joe giggled. "Why, are you going to spank me?" Pete raised his eyebrows, and Joe's face fell. "I don't fuck older men, okay? Everyone I've slept with fell under Romeo and Juliet laws. I just thought it would be hot."

His body language was closing off a little, like he thought Pete disapproved and was embarrassed about it. That would never do. 

"I'm not disappointed," Pete said, nuzzling Joe's thigh. "I thought you were making fun of me. But you're not, you're being a good boy. Letting Daddy taste you."

Joe moaned and bit his lip. Pete reached up and ran his thumb over Joe's mouth, playing with the metal. "Touch yourself, baby. Let Daddy make you feel good."

Pete could see Joe's dick jumping in his hand. "Yeah, fuck. Eat me out, Daddy." His shyness was dissipating, and he grinned when Pete buried a groan in his leg. Pete wanted Joe to look like that forever, giddy and high on how much he was wanted.

Pete spread Joe with his thumbs, looking down at his spit-wet hole. "You're getting so loose, baby. Opening up for Daddy's mouth." He was loose enough that Pete could slip one finger inside, slicked by his own spit. "Such a pretty little hole, I could eat it all goddamn day."

Joe giggled. "I wouldn't call an asshole pretty, but whatever." He gasped when Pete's finger pressed into his prostate, arching his back and speeding up his strokes. "Fuck, there, keep it right there."

Pete grinned. "So bossy." He pushed harder with his finger, leaning down to lick around his knuckle. Joe jerked off furiously, rocking steadily back into Pete's face. His breathing was getting more and more irregular.

As much as Pete wanted Joe to come on his tongue, he couldn't miss this. Propping himself up on his elbows, Pete added a second finger and used his free hand to rub around the rim, imitating what he'd been doing with his mouth. "Are you gonna come with Daddy's fingers in your ass? Fucking yourself on Daddy's hand? I want to see it, baby. Want to feel your pretty ass squeezing down on my fingers."

Joe made a sweet, desperate noise and shot all over his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole body rocked with it, tense and trembling, head thrown back against the pillow. There was shiny white come all over his tan chest, catching the light as he breathed. It was half twink porn and half Renaissance painting.

Leaving his fingers inside, Pete shoved his other hand down to jerk his neglected cock. Joe pushed himself up on his elbows to watch, and having those steady eyes watching him made Pete flush. 

Joe was still twitching a little around his fingers, and Pete focused on that, imagining that he was feeling it around his cock instead. Joe inhaled sharply when he tugged his fingers out, so Pete didn't put them back in, just looked down at the mess he'd made. Pete had been gentle, but Joe's hole still looked _used_ , pink and loose and filthy wet. Pete knew he wasn't the first person to leave it looking like that, but it still sent a sharp thrill through his belly.

"Want to mark you," Pete said, looking up at Joe's face and then back down. "Want to come on your pretty hole, make it even messier."

Joe obediently hitched his thighs back up. That was it, Pete was coming all over Joe with a strangled moan. It looked fucking filthy, pink and white and wet. Pete bent down and licked it off Joe's hole, and he could taste himself.

Joe squirmed away from Pete's mouth. "Uncle, uncle. Now it just feels gross."

Pete chuckled and sat up. Joe stretched his legs flat on either side of Pete, and Pete found a less messy thigh to rest his head on. After a minute, Joe's fingers started gently moving through his hair.

"Thanks," Joe said. "That was awesome. I can't feel my feet."

"I've been having sex for longer than you've been alive. I sure hope I'm good at it."

"No, I mean." Joe kept stroking Pete's head, gathering his thoughts. "It was a good first time. You were good to me, but you didn't make me feel like a dumb kid."

Warmth fluttered in Pete's stomach. He pressed a gentle kiss to Joe's leg. "You shouldn't let somebody come on your ass without checking if they're clean, though. I mean, I am, but you didn't know that."

"Just because I called you Daddy doesn't make you my dad." Pete snorted with laughter. "Thanks, though. For looking out for me."

They laid in silence until Joe's phone buzzed on his side table. He sat up to reach for it, laughing when he flipped it open.

Pete lifted his head. "Who's texting you at this time of night?"

"Who do you think?" Joe handed over his phone. There was a message from Peter Pan, saying _whats cookin good lookin?_ "You know, I might not have developed a mad crush on you if you didn't flirt constantly."

Pete chuckled. He texted back _eggplant_ (a laborious effort on an old school number keypad) and handed the phone back. "I gave you flirting immunity. You should thank me."

The phone vibrated a couple seconds later, and Joe laughed. "He says not to overwork it or it'll get squishy.'"

Pete's stomach lurched. A previously buried memory surfaced—lying in his childhood bedroom on a muggy summer night, too restless to sleep but too down to do anything else. Texting Joe, because he slept weird hours in the summer and he always knew how to make Pete laugh. Flirting without thinking about it, just hungry for positive attention, and wondering for months afterward whether Joe had been flirting back.

Pete sat up. "I remember that. And if current-me remembers past-me getting a text that current-me just sent, that means current-me was already here when past-me went through this. I didn't fuck everything up and rewrite history!"

"Like Harry Potter." Joe stared pensively up at the ceiling. "At least I won't have to wonder if your universe is better than mine."

Pete's stomach sank. If Joe's future was the same as Pete's past, then the two of them would never sleep together again. After almost twenty years, it was hard to feel like their friendship had suffered, but Pete still felt the pang of a door closing forever.

Not all doors were closed, though. Pete got up and straddled Joe's sticky stomach, taking Joe's face in his hands. He was still so pretty, young and unfinished with his whole life in front of him. 

"I love you," Pete said. "I've never stopped loving you. I don't say that enough, but it doesn't make it less true. You're beautiful, and not enough people see that. Hang onto the ones who do." Guilt squirmed in Pete's stomach, and he took a deep breath. "Sometimes people you love hurt you, and sometimes people you don't know hurt you, but don't let it poison you. You're awesome, but stay grounded." He leaned his forehead against Joe's. "You should kiss your Pete. He wants you to. And there will eventually be good Star Wars movies."

Joe laughed. Pete moved in for a kiss, but Joe jerked back. "Dude! Your mouth was in my ass."

Oh, right. Pete kissed the top of Joe's head instead, pulling him into a hug and burying his face in Joe's hair. Joe wrapped his arms around Pete's ribcage and squeezed hard.

"Will I see you again?" Joe mumbled against his chest. "You seem so happy."

Pete's eyes prickled. "I can't say too much, but yeah. You see me again." He settled into Joe's arms. Joe gave really good hugs, and Pete didn't get enough of them.

Pete stayed in Joe's bed until he fell asleep, just after the light started changing outside. He woke up in Los Angeles with the sky still dark. The clock said 2:45, which was about two hours before dawn in early summer.

Moving carefully to avoid waking Meagan, he took his phone into the hallway and texted Joe. _German guy with a septum piercing??_ It wasn't midnight yet in New York, and a reply came quickly.

_I don't fuck around with the time continuum, unlike some people_

Jesus, it wasn't a weird hallucination. Pete sank to the hallway floor and put his head on his knees. His phone buzzed again, this time with a call.

"Did it fuck you up?" Pete said as soon as he answered. "You've been carrying that around almost the whole time I've known you. We never even did anything about it."

Joe laughed. "Chill opener, dude. Yeah, it fucked me up for a bit when I was a teenager, but I would've been fucked up anyway. Now I have a lifelong best friend I get to play music with, which is even better."

Pete was starting to get choked up. "You know you're my free pass, right? Not that time travel counts, that's a special circumstance not governed by free pass rules."

Joe laughed. "That's just because your girl thinks I'm hot."

"Hey, I think you're hot too." Pete played with the hem of his shorts. "I don't regret it. Any Joe Troh in my life is a good Joe Troh, ass eating or not."

"Yeah, back at you." The line was quiet for a moment, like Joe was communicating silently with somebody in the room. "Theoretically, if I had a freebie list, you'd be on it too. Especially in a potential tour situation. Like you said, special circumstances."

Heat spread through Pete's stomach. "I'll talk to my people, you talk to your people?"

"Sure thing. Get some sleep, Pete. You sound like ass."

Pete hung up. He sat on the floor for a while, then got up to shower and swig some mouthwash. When he climbed back into bed, the sky outside the window was already getting brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt Time Travel. I love this fandom's dedicated creepiness over jailbait Patrick, and I wanted to spread the love around. This turned out longer and with more feels than a jailbait daddy kink fic has any right to, but I'm proud of it.
> 
> And that's a [double line bingo](https://darkrosaleen.dreamwidth.org/9713.html)! A big thank you to LadySmutterella for organizing this and cheering everybody on.


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